


Out, Having It

by sageness



Category: due South
Genre: Canon - TV, Challenge: c6d Porn Tag, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-10
Updated: 2009-05-10
Packaged: 2017-10-03 18:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sageness/pseuds/sageness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser would tell him to slow down. Stella would put a hand on his shoulder and ask if he'd thought this through. He stopped where he stood. They were always right about when he'd go off half-cocked. Did he have a plan?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out, Having It

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Meresy's porn tag game.

Oh, no. No fucking way.

Ray bounded out of his empty, Vecchio-smelling bed, but the water clinging to the shower walls was cold, the coffee in the pot on the counter was halfway to tepid, the parking spot under the window where the Riv had spent the night was occupied by the postal service truck.

Nothing pissed him off like a fuck and run. And they'd talked. "Wake me up when you go," he had said. And sure it was his day off, but he could get up to have breakfast with a guy. He could wake up enough to share a nice morning blowjob. Or at least a freaking coffee-flavored kiss before Vecchio flew out the door like his pants were on fire.

Closeted bastard.

Nice time to have a homophobic freakout. A little belated, right? Ray poured a mug of too-cool coffee, added chocolate, and nuked it for half a minute. He was sick of this shit. He was too old for this shit. After Fraser. After they'd both been in love with Fraser. After they'd both been head over heels for Stella—although Vecchio less than Ray, since he'd still had Vegas fucking with his head. After realizing they fit like two old worn-out puzzle pieces, the cardboard a little soft and fuzzy around the edges, but they'd hold together just right once you stuck them together.

He'd show him.

He took the coffee with him into the shower and gulped it while the shampoo and conditioner did their work. Soap. Razor. Nah, forget the razor. Deodorant. A clean shirt. Blue, no green, no gray, no, crap. Yellow shirt, jeans, boots. Fuck it.

Fraser would tell him to slow down. Stella would put a hand on his shoulder and ask if he'd thought this through. He stopped where he stood. They were always right about when he'd go off half-cocked. Did he have a plan?

He poured a little more coffee and drank it cold with a chocolate chaser. Plan. He looked around the apartment for anything of Vecchio's he could claim he'd forgot. There were a ton of little things: pens, some clothes, an array of fancy food in Ray's cabinets and fancy products in Ray's bathroom. Nothing like case notes, though. Nothing he could deliver that wouldn't be too personal. The thought of packing him a lunch crossed his mind, but he dismissed in a flash. He wasn't a housewife or Vecchio's mother. He was his freaking boyfriend. He'd thought. Up until Vecchio did it again.

Ray shook his head. Screw the plan. He could improvise. The main thing was he couldn't sit on his ass all day and wait to have this out later. He couldn't wait.

*

At the station, he walked straight across the bullpen, answering greetings from Elaine, Jack, and Dewey as he went, but not stopping to talk. Vecchio was at his desk in the corner. Vecchio was on the phone. Vecchio hadn't seen him yet.

Ray waited about ten feet away until Ray got off the phone. Then he approached slow, steady, and with a look in his eye that said, he hoped, _you dared the wrong guy, mister_. He saw Vecchio swallow and look around, and he closed in.

"Missed you this morning," he said conversationally.

Vecchio stared at him for a couple of seconds. Then, quietly, he said, "Can we not do this here?"

"What, you're among friends, Vecchio. Everybody here knows us. They even like us—well, me, anyway. I don't know about you."

"Kowalski," Vecchio hissed. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Ray sighed. "What's wrong is that my boyfriend is a goddamned liar. What's wrong is I'm too goddamned old and tired for this bullshit. What's wrong is Fraser and his goddamned contagious ideas about honesty."

The room around them was getting quiet—more quiet than the bullpen ever was, and Ray realized he was nearly shouting.

"You should leave," Vecchio said. "You're off today. Go home."

"So you can promise to come by later and then not? Is that it?"

"People are staring, Kowalski!" Vecchio hissed again.

Ray let out a laugh. They all knew he and Vecchio were together anyway. This wasn't breaking news to anybody—not after Stella and Fraser, and Stella again. Ray made a snap decision. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his yellow shirt and yanked it over his head. Someone behind him hooted. Vecchio squawked and finally stood up, knocking his chair back with a screech.

Ray was already on his belt, then his jeans. He didn't actually remember whether he'd put any underwear on, but he kicked off his motorcycle boots after he got his zipper down and let his jeans fall. Gray boxer briefs, whew.

"Kowalski!" Vecchio pleaded.

"Detective!" Welsh boomed from behind him. "Entertaining as I'm sure this is, _please_ put your pants back on." The cheers and catcalls died away.

Ray looked over his shoulder. "Yes sir. Just a minute, sir."

Then he looked back at Vecchio, who was blushing an impossible shade of red. "You're going to come have a conversation with me right now, capisce?"

Vecchio nodded unsteadily. "Yeah, uh, okay." Then he looked past Ray to Welsh, Ray guessed, and mouthed, "Sorry."

*

Dressed again, Ray led Vecchio to his car. They got in, and Ray drove them up to Lincoln Park. It was a windy day and the lake was breaking whitecaps.

"That was not cool," Vecchio said at last.

"Neither is fucking me and running off without a second glance."

"Hey! I stayed, didn't I?"

"Not so's I noticed," Ray shot back. "I told you to wake me up."

"You had the day off!"

"So? You don't fuck somebody and take off without a goodbye!"

"You—" Vecchio stopped. He took another look at Ray, like he was finally maybe getting it. "Are you asking me..." he trailed off.

"Am I asking you what?" Ray asked.

"I don't know!" Vecchio half-yelled. "You have to tell me!"

On impulse, Ray said, "Move in."

Vecchio said, "What?"

"Move in! I'm sick of this. I'm in love with you and you're crazy about me except when you're being an asshole about sneaking around all the time. Fucking move in with me!"

"Are you nuts? Your apartment is too small for both of us!"

"Then move out and I'll move out and we'll move in together!" Ray yelled back.

Vecchio blinked at him. Ray blinked back.

"Seriously?" Vecchio asked.

Ray nodded. "Yeah."

"I think I gotta kiss you now," Vecchio murmured.

"Yeah, that'd be good," Ray said with relief, and leaned across the seat toward Vecchio. The kiss was soft and wet, wetter than Ray was expecting. Vecchio was tasting him, lips, teeth, tongue, like he didn't have the shape of Ray's mouth memorized. Like he had to explore him all over again.

"You are such a jerk," Vecchio whispered. "I can't believe you stripped in the station."

"Well, you lost out on morning blowjobs by taking off again," Ray said, hackles rising just a little.

Vecchio blinked again, then said, "Keep an eye out for the Parks police." Then he twisted his long legs in the foot well and tugged open Ray's pants.

"Shit, here?!" Ray said.

Vecchio sucked the soft head of Ray's cock into his mouth, and holy wet, sucking heat pulling him hard, pulling him out through his dick, and holy hell, that was good. Vecchio mmm'd and bobbed his head, and Ray planted his feet so he could thrust just a little, just because he couldn't help it, and—

It was over too fast. Vecchio swallowing and swallowing. Ray kissing him sloppily, licking a stray droplet of come from the corner of Vecchio's mouth. Then he let himself fall sideways into Vecchio's lap, Vecchio's hard-on making a huge tent in his fancy dress pants. Ray unzipped him and pulled his dick out of his boxers. They were pushing the limit here, in broad daylight, with cars zooming by on the boulevard not a hundred yards away. Ray stroked him hard three-four-five times and bent his lips to encircle Vecchio's cockhead. He came immediately, filling Ray's mouth with hot, bitter come. Ray drank it down and licked him through the aftershocks.

When he sat up, Vecchio's eyes were glazed and bright green in the morning sun. "That was—"

"What you coulda had before breakfast if you'd thought about it."

Vecchio closed his eyes. "You know we're not teenagers anymore, right? Despite your crazy-ass libido?"

Ray kissed him lightly on the lips, and then stared until Vecchio's eyes fluttered open.

"What?"

"You know the difference between a partners thing and a sex thing." Vecchio swallowed, nerves showing. Ray bit his lip in irritation. "Did you miss the part where I asked you to live with me?"

But then Vecchio's arms were around him, holding him tight. "This is crazy," he said, "crazy!"

Ray laughed, long and low. "Maybe crazy, maybe not. But it's good, right? This? It's good."


End file.
